Granger Spawn
by fuciferwhinesalot
Summary: Draco Malfoy went on a run from a Death Eater seeking his service for the new sect, leaving Hermione Granger behind.
1. Chapter 1

**Ch. 1**

"I'm sorry for pulling you out when term has just started. I already spoke with the Headmistress about this so you're not in trouble."

"What's happened, Mum?"

"We're moving back to England."

" _What?"_

Hermione didn't seem to mind her daughter's reaction as she glanced at the child's messy hair that didn't look like hers at all. She waved her wand so it covers her daughter's hair in a silver mist that reveals its real color.

"I'm finally meeting my father?"

"If you're lucky. I hear he's not even in England at the moment."

"Where'd he go?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. But come on, pack your bags, we leave for England in an hour. The English Ministry has given me a job. I honestly did not want to take it but since you entered Beauxbatons you've been pestering me about your father so I figured, this is the chance to introduce him to you."

"Finally."

"Will you promise to be good when you get to Hogwarts? I'm taking you to the Headmistress tomorrow, and we'll sort out your transfer officially."

With a flick of her wand, her daughter's features once again turned into that of hers. "Can I keep looking like this, though? Please, Mum. I look like a stranger when I'm wearing my blonde hair."

Hermione laughed at the word. _Stranger._ How could this child think of such?

And so their journey back to England commenced. Hermione remembered the time when she cooed a baby into sleep as the train to Paris dwindled from the lens of London. She had raised her daughter amongst the French. When she was eleven, she had received two letters confirming her invitation to Hogwarts and Beauxbatons. Hogwarts, because the school never missed a heartbeat of a witch or wizard born from the blood of their alumni; and Beauxbatons because, naturally, she was raised there as a French citizen. Plus, Hermione is friends with the Headmistress of the school, having helped out on so many assignments back in her days in the English Ministry.

She had asked Fleur to help them find lodgings in Paris until she finds a house where she can properly raise her baby. She landed a job at the French Ministry of Magic, which now leads us to this moment.

She glanced at her daughter holding a notebook by her lap, her chin resting on the palm of her hand, and watching the scenery pass them by. Her notebook had her initials engraved: _H.A.J. Granger_. Even her luggage had the same initials. One time, her daughter told her, "Mum, you shouldn't have given three names. We could've had the same initials!"

Hermione's reputation reached even the farthest depths of the French Ministry. Her colleagues admired her for her deeds in the War, having been one of the legendary trio and of course, brightest witch of their age, and still is. It's no wonder her daughter idolized her, that she made it a point to engrave her initials on each of her belongings. Ever since she was taught how to read, her daughter would spend hours in her library and one day, when she was six, she discovered a spell that can change her features the way she wanted to.

Hermione smiled at the memory, for she was horrified and was at the same time in awe, of her daughter's brilliance. The spell was a bit complex for a child, and just thinking about it filled her with pride, knowing that she is bright and full of talent.

Now she's taking her back to England, and she's worried about her inevitable meeting with her father.

"You're not very chatty today." Hermione said.

"I miss my friends."

"I'm sure they miss you too. It's not goodbye, love. You can go visit them when you come of age. Alone, might I add. Isn't that exciting?"

Her daughter's pale face suddenly filled with color. "Really?"

"Yes. But you have to promise to send me an owl everyday."

The child laughed. It was the sound of nymphs singing and dancing around a pond, making it bright and full of life.

The next day, Hermione found herself traversing the same halls towards the Headmistress' office, with a fifteen-year-old in tow. She noticed heads turning in their direction, particularly, to her daughter, who carried herself so regal and elegant, she wasn't sure if it was the Beauxbatons upbringing or her blood doing the job.

As expected, Headmistress McGonagall stood in the doorway of her office, her lips pressed in a quaint smile.

"Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall."

"Nice to see you again, Miss Granger. You look well. This must be your daughter? Oh, how charming." The old witch remarked.

"Pleased to meet you, Headmistress."

McGonagall smiled at the greeting. "Come now young Miss Granger, you need an orientation before dinner is upon us."

"Of course."

By the time dinner arrived, Hermione had already sent for her daughter's luggage, and packed in her favourite sweets just in case.

The Great Hall was now filled with students dressed in robes for the occasion. The start of the year feast. And the sorting.

Hermione's daughter was to be sorted amongst the first years, as Beauxbatons did not really have the same housing methods as Hogwarts, so, following protocol, McGonagall suggested it's best she wears the Sorting Hat later that evening, even though she's already in her fourth year.

Several heads turned as she walked at the back of the line of the frightened first years. Her usual tall and proud demeanour made her stand out even more than she already does.

"She's _beautiful_." Several people from the table of Ravenclaw exclaimed. The people from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had their jaws drop to unattractive proportions, whilst the people from Slytherin eyed her hungrily like wolves ready to devour their prey.

The students arranged themselves to be sorted under the Sorting Hat, this time, Professor Neville Longbottom held it instead of McGonagall.

"When I call your name, step forward and you will be sorted to your houses."

The students complied. The tables cheered as one, two, three and more joined their ranks. And then it was time for the last student to be sorted, the tall brown-haired girl they were all so eager to get to know.

"Granger, Heléna Alexandria Jean."

The tall brown-haired girl sat on the stool and it was the longest time the Hat had ever spent on sorting a child to the best house.

"You have a kind heart, and a brave soul. Your mind speaks volumes I haven't heard since-" The hat gasped. "What's this? An odd mixture this is!" It cackled in delight. "Best be… Slytherin!"

The rest of the Great Hall fell silent whilst the Slytherin table roared into excitement.

Almost in a flash, the moment she joined the Slytherin table, Albus Potter walked up to her and shook her hand. "Pleased to meet you at last, Hera. Aunt Hermione's told us a lot about you in her letters."

Hera gasped in delight. "Albus! Not wreaking havoc today, I see?" The two laughed.

"I see Aunt Hermione also told you about me. How would your Mum feel now that you're in Slytherin?"

"Oh, she's cool with whatever."

The rest of the table watched the banter while they ate dinner. They all seemed so puzzled at how the troublemaker is instantly friends with the new kid. But then they remembered that the names Potter and Granger were often mentioned together in their own parents' conversations. So it's no surprise, really.

Classes the next day were interesting. Having been brought up in France, Hera thought she'd be having a hard time catching up with the lessons, most of which covers England and the rest of the world.

But to her delight she found the lessons extremely easy to the point of annoyance. She makes a mental note to write to her Mum the moment she gets off her last class for the day, thanking her for her tutelage at home.

"Miss Granger!" She heard someone call from behind. She turned and saw Professor Longbottom, her teacher in Herbology.

"Professor Longbottom! Sir." She smiled, regal as she was.

Neville laughed. "You know, when I invited your mother to my wedding ten years ago, she told me she couldn't come because she has to look after her daughter. I never thought I'd be seeing said daughter in Hogwarts! I'm glad she decided to move you two back here. When you write to her, please tell her that my wife Luna and I send our love."

"Will do, Professor."

"See you in class. I hear you're brilliant with potions back in Beauxbatons, but I wonder if you're as sharp in determining which herb goes where when preparing tonics for tricky maladies."

Hera laughed. "I hope I don't disappoint you, Professor."

When Professor Longbottom was no longer in sight, she checked her schedule and saw that they had double Defense Against the Dark Arts with Gryffindor, which made her extremely excited, not only because this was her favourite class but she gets to meet people from her mother's house.

She allowed herself to be taken with the flow of students entering the dungeons towards Professor Zabini's office, where they'll be holding classes for the whole semester.

When they entered, she was surprised to see the exact opposite of what her Mum's Defense classroom looked like. It was a wide classroom lit with minimalist chandeliers. There were no jars of potions or rancid elements decorating the walls, instead there were cabinets with boxes of varying sizes inside, arranged so it looked like organized chaos.

"Good afternoon, fourth-years." Greeted a deep voice from the dark side of the classroom.

"Afternoon, Professor."

Hera knew Professor Zabini, from her mother's stories. He was her father's friend. She wondered what kind of people her father made friends with.

When Professor Zabini emerged from the dark, she noticed that he was wearing a shiny Slytherin pin on his robes.

The professor scanned the room as if to check if everyone's in, when he noticed Hera.

"You must be the transfer student from Beauxbatons." He said.

"I am, Professor."

"Granger." He said, almost as if finding answers as to why her name is Granger and not something else.

To make light of the uncomfortable situation, Hera looked Zabini in the eye and casted a wordless spell to change the color of her eyes. She saw Zabini blink in shock, but pretended nothing happened. Another wordless spell, and her eyes reverted back to its deep brown hue.

Zabini cleared his throat in an attempt to regain his composure, then proceeded to quiz Hera of the different hexes to use on various predicaments.

She did not disappoint.

The professor scoffed. "Ever the know-it-all, your mother was. And as it were, it appears you are as well."

"I am my mother's daughter, Sir."

Everyone gaped in awe, and Hera held her chin proudly, just as she always did.

And so Hera had established a reputation for herself in Hogwarts. It's quite the opposite from when she was in Beauxbatons but she thought, it will do.

In a fortnight, she had herself fully adjusted to the environment in Hogwarts and has even befriended the librarian, a feat even her Mum could not achieve.

At breakfast, one morning, a parcel came from Harry and Ginny Potter, welcoming her to Hogwarts and congratulating her for being in Slytherin. Albus must have told them, she thought. Then, a red-haired girl in her fifth year wearing her Gryffindor robes and carrying her top-of-the-line broom approached her and gave her a parcel as well.

"Hullo, Hera. Can I call you Hera?"

Hera laughed. "You must be Daisy. Uncle Ron's daughter?"

Daisy laughed at the younger witch' intuition. "You know me!"

"Of course, I do. Mum tells me everything Uncle Ron and Uncle Harry write about their children, naturally."

"I was going to talk to you after your sorting, but Albus beat me to it. I'm sorry we couldn't hang out as often as we'd like, fifth years are kind of busy and well, you know Albus gets into trouble all the time, plus I have Quidditch."

"Yeah. I'm glad he doesn't get expelled though. Hey, let me guess. You're the keeper?"

"Nah, chaser."

"But Aunt Ginny is a Keeper! Uncle Ron was too!"

Daisy laughed. "I like chasing bludger better than kicking a quaffle away from the hoops. It's a stressful job. But don't tell Aunt Ginny that."

"The trio's kids mingling with each other. Of course." A Slytherin fourth-year walked up to Daisy and Hera.

"Hello, Zabini. Nice to see you're still as vile as ever."

"And you, Weasley." The girl nodded. "Ah, Heléna Granger. Hermione Granger's daughter."

Hera merely looked at the Zabini girl, and asked, casually. "And you are?"

"Prima Zabini. Pleased to meet you."

"And you."

"I'll see you in the common room, Frenchy."

Hera merely smiled.

"Are you two enemies?" She asks Daisy.

"Not quite. She's the Slytherin team's chaser and I am Gryffindor's. Suffice it to say we're out for each other's necks this season."

"That's nice."

"Do you play much?"

Hera grinned. "A little."

"Don't think I don't know that you own a Lightning Bolt now, Granger. Aunt Mione asked for Dad's and Uncle Harry's opinion before buying you one."

Hera smiled sheepishly. "You got me."

"That's pretty expensive stuff! And fast!"

"I know! Mum was fidgety when we got home. It almost felt like she'd return it to the shop while I'm asleep. She doesn't like spending money, that woman."

The two girls laughed.

Later, in the Slytherin common room, Hera sat with Prima Zabini, as promised.

"So Frenchy, I hear you're in my Dad's class."

"Yeah."

"Do you enjoy Defense Against the Dark Arts much?"

"Is this your idea of small talk?"

Prima scoffed. "There it is."

Hera merely stared blankly as an answer.

"Heléna, do you mind? If I call you Heléna?"

"No."

"You look so familiar. I think you look like someone I know. I can't remember who, exactly, but I get this feeling that we should be friends."

Hera looked at Prima, her eyes quizzical. "Sure." She lent out a hand which Prima gladly received.

Weeks passed in Hogwarts and Hera is finding herself rather bored and annoyed without her usual routine in Beauxbatons. She decided to take out her Lightning Bolt and take a stroll at the Forbidden Forest, because what thrill would the Quidditch arena bring? There are no obstacles, unlike the Forbidden Forest, which is full of branches and possibly deadly snakes.

 _Maybe I'll drop by Hagrid's hut on my way_. She thought. But then she flew over the hut, completely forgetting about her plan to visit Hagrid, when she saw the lush green covering the jagged horizon that is the forbidden forest.

Meanwhile, the Headmistress stood by her window, watching the scene with her binoculars, smiling to herself. "We have another troublemaker in Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore."

The portrait directly above McGonagall's desk let out a raspy chuckle. "Whose troublemaker? Is it Potter's again?"

"No. Granger."

Dumbledore let out another longer raspy chuckle. "It's your lot now, Headmistress."

"It looks like Gryffindor will have a hard time winning the House Cup this year, Professor."

"Does it? Interesting."

Hera bolted through the branches, letting the air rush to her cheeks, dodging, maneuvering over leaves, testing her limit.

When she was done, it was dusk, and she already has grazes on her arms and cheeks from the branches she failed to dodge. With a tap of her wand, her grazes started healing.

"Glad you didn't miss dinner." Prima sat beside her in the Great Hall, holding a book of fairy tales.

"What are you reading?"

"Just some Muggle stuff. I honestly don't understand how they write these stories and half of the things here are rubbish but…"

Hera tilted the book so she can see the cover. "Fairy tales, huh. Those are pretty cool. Have you read that story where the girl gets raped in her sleep? That's just twisted."

"I know! It's infuriating! Do all Muggles read this growing up? Because I don't think I'd advise my future children to."

Hera laughed. "Same."

Just then, Prima saw Hera holding what looked like an oddly shaped guitar case. "What's that?"

"Broom."

"Oh. Neat."

"Mum had it made for me. She hated the sound of it scraping the floors at home." By home, she meant the one in Paris.

"My Mum used to hate your Mum, just because Uncle Draco didn't really pay attention to her because he was so caught up on hating Hermione Granger. She had a big crush on him. It's a wonder how she and Dad became husband and wife."

Hera glanced at Prima. "Uncle…Draco?"

"Draco Malfoy. He's my Dad's best friend. He's also my godfather."

"Really? What's he like?"

"I don't remember. I never saw him in person. Just in pictures. And Mum and Dad used to tell me stories about him from when Dad first came back here from Siberia. He seems nice."

"How is he your godfather?"

"He and Dad made a pact to stay alive until their children get grandchildren. To never die, in summary. And as they're best mates or stuff, they promised to be godfathers to each other's firstborn and… well. A bit childish but, here we are."

 _Then, that makes Professor Zabini my godfather_? Hera thought to herself.

"Dad received an owl from him, you know. Just last week. I think he's coming home. This cardigan that I'm wearing is from him, actually."

Hera paused to examine the sheer clothing her new friend has on and knew that it was expensive from the material it was made of. Not that she was much of a fashionista herself, but Beauxbatons just wove it in their curriculum that students must learn to dress well, and so she was trained of the art and all the intricacies it involved.

"Prima, when did you say your godfather was coming back?"

"I didn't. I don't know. I have to ask Dad."

"Oh." Hera rose from her seat and waved Prima goodbye, saying she was supposed to write to her Mum hours ago.

And so she went to the dungeons, where the Slytherin common room is, and the passageway to her dorm. Upon entering the room she shared with two older Slytherin girls, she summoned a quill and a piece of parchment and scribbled in rapid-fire cursive, never minding if she mixed French with English, knowing her Mum would understand both languages.

She sent word to her Mum that her father was actually coming home, but the date is still uncertain. She basically narrated everything she did in the past month in Hogwarts, how she doesn't enjoy it now especially since the food is "too greasy" and is "bound to make me sick later on." In her excitement, she let it slip that she went flying recklessly over and through the forbidden forest. She didn't deliberately say the words, but she knows her Mum READS between the lines. Only when she had sent the owl to the Ministry did she realize her mistake.

The next morning, Hera woke up dreading a howler. Her Mum used to tell her about how her Uncle Ron got a howler from Nana Weasley when he and Uncle Harry drove the Weasley car all the way to Hogwarts only to get smashed by the Whomping Willow. Aunt Ginny reckons it was frightful and embarrassing.

"Merlin, please don't let Mum send a howler." She prayed.

Hera arrived at the Great Hall earlier than Prima, as usual. She doesn't quite understand why it's so hard for her friend to wake up on time.

"Is that a French thing? You waking up earlier than literally everyone?" Prima once asked.

"Madame Maxime doesn't tolerate tardiness."

"Neither does McGonagall."

"You should really work on that." Hera said, pertaining to Prima's sleeping habits.

"I should."

Breakfast came and owls started zooming into the Great Hall in search of their receivers. A snowy white owl found Hera and surprisingly, it did not carry a howler. Instead, it carried a parcel that looked like it might be pieces of clothing wrapped in a neat bundle.

She opened the parcel to reveal a set of dress robes with matching shoes. It looked like her Mum had it made. A note fell on the table beside her soup. It read: "There's a ball in the Ministry if you should like to come. Professor McGonagall has been notified of the occasion and I heard a lot of kids from Hogwarts are coming with their parents. You should come too. I want you to meet your Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron. There's a designated teacher to accompany students to the Ministry. The meeting time is 5, at the entranceway. Don't be late. Bring a coat with you. Love, Mum"

"Hey Prima!" She called out to her friend who had just now arrived to the Great Hall.

"Yeah?"

"Where does your Mum work?"

"Ministry."

"So you're coming to the ball?"

Just then an owl carrying a similar parcel arrived and dropped the package on top of Prima's head, which Hera caught because the latter's reflexes are still asleep, apparently.

Prima opened the parcel revealing a note and a set of dress robes. She looked at Hera's parcel and shrugged. "I guess we both are."

At five, the two ascended towards the entranceway of the castle and made for the small of group of students gathered around Professor Longbottom. Hera noticed that Albus and Daisy were there as well so she waved hello. Prima, on the other hand, stared at the two with a smug face.

As soon as they arrived at the Ministry, Hera made to flick her wand so her hair becomes an ombre shade of silver and russet. No one noticed because they were all preoccupied with looking for their parents.

Prima bid Hera a temporary goodbye as she made her way towards the table of the Department of Law Enforcement, and she herself started to walk towards the table of the Department of International Magical Cooperations, where her Mum sat.

"Ah! My daughter's here." Hermione stood up to welcome Hera, who has now taken off her coat so her satin black dress with thin straps showed her collarbones and toned muscles. The dress was a simple mermaid cut that runs just below her ankle, paired with pearl earrings and a locket. She hadn't worn the gloves her Mum gave her along with the dress, but she did paint her nails so it shows the color of her Hogwarts house, and she wore her grandmother's watch. She had changed the color of her eyes into grey prior to approaching the Ministry gateways, but it was night and the lights made her eyes appear bluish green.

Hermione noticed this and smiled knowingly. As she led Hera to her seat, Hermione flicked a finger so the ombre disappears and shows instead a pure russet hair. Nobody noticed of course, as Hera's hair was swept backward and Hermione made sure to interrupt the lighting somehow.

"Everyone, this is my Heléna." Hermione announced proudly.

Hera noticed that she's the only kid in the table whereas the others had four or five. And then she noticed that her Mum was the youngest of the crowd in front of her, which means that their children were probably old enough to work for the Ministry themselves.

She smiled and nodded politely. Her grace was received by the elders with much awe and doting. None of them seemed to care why she's fatherless, which is great, because it saves her from leaving the comfort of the table.

Finally, the moment she's been waiting for came and she was introduced to the rest of the legendary trio.

The lightning scar on Uncle Harry's forehead is indeed a sight to behold, and she now has an idea why Uncle Ron and her Mum broke up. Aunt Ginny is mesmerizingly beautiful and she thought she caught a whiff of raspberry and spring in her hair, just like how she smells crushed pine needles in her Mum's hair.

Overall, they turned out to be really great people, and she can't wait to meet more of her Mum's friends.

"I can't believe they're your Uncles." Prima said, when they had returned to the Slytherin common room.

"They're not, biologically, but yeah. They are my Uncles."

"They're Aurors!"

"Yes, well. You can be one too if you want to."

"I know that. It's just, you got to talk to Aurors!"

Hera laughed. She had no idea Prima had an obsession with Aurors.

"Heléna, do you want to come over on Christmas break?" Prima asked while they were walking towards Hogsmeade the next weekend.

"I'll ask Mum."

"Alright. There's Quidditch tryouts next week by the way, have a go. They're looking for a Seeker. You must have big guts to be able to ride a Lightning Bolt."

Hera laughed, remembering how her Dad basically paid the Slytherin house so he could get in. "Yeah, I might have a go."


	2. Chapter 2

**Ch. 2**

Minerva stood by the pews overlooking the Quidditch arena now filled with students battling each other for the championship. She particularly has her eyes set on Heléna Granger, whose hair, she noticed, changes hues each time she pulls a sudden stop before hitting the dirt and dragging her body back up. From russet brown, it becomes ashen.

"Most peculiar." She muttered.

Only when Slytherin was proclaimed the winner did she leave the pews, contemplating on the ashen clump of hair dangling by the child's back.

Hera slid her broom into its case and mounted it on her shoulder. All over the arena, banners of green and silver dominated and there were screams of glee where her teammates stood huddled.

It's nearly the end of term, and she has yet to devise a plan so that he sees her father when he gets home to England.

 _Surely, he'll go visit Professor Zabini_ , she thought. _So I must convince Mum to let me go._

By the power of Merlin, Hera knew it was hopeless that her Mum would let her sleep over unless it's the Potters' house in Godric's Hollow or the Burrow, so she had worked so hard to project a cheery image on behalf of Prima. When she gets to the platform she'll drag Prima with her and make her tell her Mum the plan.

It was futile, but it was all she got. She didn't like lying to her Mum, and she doesn't want to upset her. She didn't want to just sneak out, because she would be failing her Mum real bad if she did.

But then…she doesn't know how Prima did it, but her Mum let her stay for a few days! Just enough time to observe the Zabinis and maybe learn about the Malfoys.

She hadn't even seen the house her Mum bought for them yet, and here she is, journeying to another person's home.

It wasn't unexpected, really. The way Prima dresses screams gold, not that she has any problem with it, but that explains the enormous house they're about to enter.

It was a manor.

As it turns out, the Zabinis are a wealthy bunch.

Hera couldn't help but admire the pieces of art hung on the walls in the hallways.

"So this is me." Prima led her into a spacious room draped in cream colored curtains, cream colored walls, cream colored everything!

"Prim, what…"

"It's weird, I know, let me just…" She flicks her wand and suddenly the walls and the curtains now have complementing colors.

"Why did you change it? I didn't say it was weird, I was going to ask what you do in this spacious house. You're an only child, right?"

"Not anymore."

"Oh?"

"It's only a matter of time now before Mum gives birth. They say it's a boy. I'm going to have a little brother!"

"That's great! I'm really happy for you."

The two started unpacking their luggage and proceeded downstairs for hot chocolate, where she met Pansy, a lovely dark-haired witch sporting a baby bump and a bun laced with a wreath of flowers.

"Good evening, Mrs. Zabini." Hera greeted the older witch.

"Evening, love. You must be the Granger spawn? My husband tells me you aced his class. Unlike this girl here."

Hera laughed awkwardly in response.

"I aced Care for Magical Creatures, Mum, AND Potions."

Pansy seemed to have been appeased at learning about her daughter's achievements, so she let a soft chuckle and conjured two cups of frothy hot chocolate.

"Mrs. Zabini, have you visited Toulouse?"

"No, we haven't had time since my husband took up that teaching job at Hogwarts. Why do you ask?"

"Beauxbatons would often send its students to Toulouse for a quick getaway before term break, and there are a lot of museums there. Seeing as you own various pieces, you might want to add up some more."

Pansy Zabini looked ecstatic. "I'll be sure to visit it one day."

"I actually aced Herbology as well, but I didn't tell Mum because she doesn't want the Longbottoms mentioned in this house. She and Professor Longbottom had a fling you see, way before she decided she liked Dad. Also, is that a French thing?" Prima once again asked, as they ascended the stairs towards her posh room.

"Again with the French thing, Zabini. It's called making great conversations and establishing a great first impression. You have a lot to learn."

The other laughed.

"Witch, please. As if I'd need it. I don't really care."

"Has anyone told you you have a nasty attitude?"

"Sure. A lot of fifth-years in the Honours Potions Club hate me."

Hera did not dare argue further because she knows it would take them all night.

Professor Zabini arrived a day after Prima and Hera and apparently he wasn't notified of the latter's presence.

"Miss Granger!" He exclaimed, looking puzzled at his own daughter, who sat at the guest's side.

"Hello, Dad. Hera is staying with us for a few days."

"Hello, Professor." Hera greeted.

"I wasn't told about this but yes, Miss Granger, I hope you enjoy your stay here."

"Indeed I am enjoying it, Professor."

Later after dinner, Hera peeped into Professor Zabini and his wife's conversation. Uncle Georgie had sent her a box of Extendable Ears and using an invisibility charm, she managed to send it as close to the couple as possible without them noticing magic.

"Is it just me? Or are fifteen-year-olds these days looking more and more peculiar? Even acting more peculiar! I mean, look at Primrose, she doesn't act like a fifteen-year-old and now she's friends with Granger, who's equally odd."

Hera noted how different her teacher is in class than he is at home.

"Calm your marbles, Blaise, love. Aren't you glad they're odd? If Prim hadn't turned out to be so then we have failed as parents. And you can't expect Hermione Granger to have a plain, uninteresting kid now, can you? She's Hermione Granger!"

"So she is, and Heléna Granger is just like her. A know-it-all, but a bit more subtle."

"She reminds me of someone."

"Someone we both know?"

"Yes. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she's the female version of Draco Malfoy, but with Granger's features."

"You've noticed!"

"Of course. I've observed Malfoy for years, remember?"

"The way she talks remind me of Narcissa. And at the same time, Granger."

"Ah, but it's maybe just a coincidence. How could Granger possibly have a child with Draco? That would be ridiculous. They don't even talk to each other. Even after the War."

"That is true."

And so the couple dismissed their speculations. Immediately, Hera grabbed hold of the end of the Ear and pulled it so it coils by itself, stashing it away into her pocket. Quick as a fox, she darted from the bottom stair to Prima's door, a skill she mastered with great practice.

"What took you so long?" Prima asked.

"Oh, I was just admiring your Mum's art collection."

"Pretty great, huh?"

"Yeah, it is."

"So, listen. Tomorrow, we're going over the hill to my secret hideout. I've never had a friend to show it to before, but I have one now, so we're going."

"A secret hideout, what are you, ten?"

"Hush, Granger. Didn't you build your own fort when you were six?"

"Um… I did." She didn't, really. When she was six, she was busy filling her notebooks with spells she invented herself, just like the Half-Blood Prince she's read about so much in her Uncle Harry's letters to her. She can't wait to use Sectumsempra on anyone who manages to flip her temper. She remembers her Mum gasping when she told her this. Her Mum must have scolded her Uncle Harry, because his next letters became dull without stories of the trio's feats.

"Then you know what fun it is!"

"Sure. If you say so."

"Don't be a buzz kill, Granger. You're in my territory."

Hera laughed. "Whatever you say, Zabini." She flipped open a book and started reading. Prima saw this and peered at the cover.

"It's French."

"Yeah, no kidding."

"Will you teach me?"

"Uh, yeah. Alright."

And so the night became a tutoring session between Hera and Prima. At the end of the session, Prima had managed to introduce herself in French, state her age and where she studies.

When it comes to teaching, Hera surely has her Mum's knack, but Prima wasn't a very good student. She loses focus at the slightest distraction.

The next day, the two went to Prima's hideout. It's mostly filled with dusty toys and books, but she understood why Prima loved it so much. It reminded her so much of the Shrieking Shack, the way her Mum described it in her bedtime stories.

"Prima, this looks impressive. You built this?"

"Yeah. It was only a hole when I found it. I had to learn constructing spells in secret."

"Nicely done."

The two spent half the day zooming toys at each other's faces. It turns out that the hideout hadn't been cleaned since Prima entered Hogwarts. The moment they thought it was clean, rats came running from a concealed hole in the wall. So they spent the rest of the day making sure every nook and cranny is spotless and ratless.

When they came back to the manor, a tall man stood with his back behind the door. Hera felt her chest constrict. The tall man had his hands in his pocket, just like how Draco Malfoy did in one of the pictures in the Zabini living room. In the photo, he was wearing the smirk her Mum so told her about, and his hair was white blonde and was neatly combed.

In her uneasiness, she had her hair frizzle out just like her Mum's, added a few more freckles on her cheek so her jaw doesn't show the prominent gene of Draco Malfoy; she also had her eyes turn into a darker brown.

"Hera, are you alright?" Prima asked, shocked at her friend's hair turning out so frizzled, when throughout the day that they were together it laid pretty and curly as they always were. Now, it like lightning struck her friend's head.

Professor Zabini and the visitor turned to see who's just arrived, and Hera almost gasped in shock.

The man whom Professor Zabini was talking to was none other than her father. Draco Malfoy.

Even as he grew older, the years have been kind to him, Hera thought to herself. The handsome boy in the living room portrait is now standing in front of her, with only a few lines to show for his years in Siberia.

"Uncle Draco!" Prima exclaimed. "Since when were you back from Siberia? How have you been?"

Draco laughed. Hera thought of nymphs dancing and prowling over an imaginary meadow filled with wildflowers. "How is my goddaughter?"

"I'm alright. Thank you for your gifts! I loved every last one of them."

"And there will be more, if you keep your marks up."

"Deal."

"You shouldn't really be spoiling her, Draco."

"Why not?"

"Pansy doesn't like it."

"Ah, well, when little Blaise comes out, I'll be spoiling him rotten as well."

"Ah, almost forgot, Draco. This is Heléna Granger. Prim's friend."

What color decorated Draco Malfoy's face drained as he turned to look at the Heléna Granger character his friend had just mentioned.

"Granger."

Hera summoned all her will to smile despite that her father showed no trace of remorse or whatsoever for leaving a lovechild behind. Although she did see how the man's face has grown paler than it already is.

"Ms. Granger, this is Draco Malfoy, a good friend of mine and also Prima' godfather."

"Enchantée, Mr. Malfoy."

"How's your mother, Ms. Granger?"

Hera noticed how he likes answering with questions.

"You know my mother?" She asks, feigning ignorance.

"Of course. We used to despise each other."

Hera merely smiled, excusing herself to fly around the estate while they all catch up, purposely summoning her broom with a wordless Accio, just to see how her father would react.

Just as she imagined countless times, she noted a glimmer of wonder in her father's eyes as the broom occupied her awaiting palm.

Once again, she excused herself from the company and went out the doors to mount her broom.

In her flight, Hera started shooting spells at shrubs and rocks at random, never minding what spells they were so long as they served their purpose, to release her anger.

In her mind, she pictured her Mum and Dad reuniting as old friends even though she knew they never were, and they would live together, as a family, in Paris!

But all these delusions evaporated when her excitement was overcome with anger, as her mind flooded with memories of the circumstances of her birth.

It was years after the Wizarding War. The Death Eaters were rounded up and thrown in Azakaban, but there has been a rebellion. One of the captured Death Eaters escaped and has started a new sect of dark side.

Hermione Granger was then an Auror, one of those hunting for the leader of the said sect. She and Draco started dating a year after her breakup with Ronald Weasley. It caused quite a ruckus in the wizarding world. As Lucius Malfoy was against his son being with a Muggleborn, he used everything under his power to keep them apart. This went on for years, until, one night he was visited by the Death Eaters of the newly organized sect, and was imperiused into telling his son's whereabouts, thereby resulting in Draco's escape to Siberia, with Blaise Zabini, who was then an Auror himself, who had the brilliant idea to set Draco and Hermione on a date in the first place.

When Draco fled for Siberia, he left neither a word nor a letter to Hermione Granger. In her despair, and fear for both their lives, Hermione kept her pregnancy a secret that only select people knew. Trustworthy as her friends were, word never got out of her giving birth to a baby girl looking exactly like Draco Malfoy; only her color was different, as the child inherited her parents' mixed skin colors.

Naturally, Draco's Slyherin friends never knew of this pregnancy either. Hermione learned of his circumstance in Siberia, but she never told Hera. Only when Prima told her did she learn about her father's whereabouts.

 _But he slept with her! What else happens when a man and a woman engage in sexual intercourse?! They get a baby! Has he never thought of that?_

Meanwhile, in the Zabini manor, Prima was busying herself with the sweets her godfather brought with him. While she did so, Draco and Blaise talked in the front porch.

"Granger's kid?" Draco asks once more. "Who is the father? How old is she?"

"Fifteen, and I don't know, mate. But I think we're thinking the same thing."

"Zabini, that child could be mine!"

"Calm down, mate."

"How could Granger not tell me?"

"How could she possibly tell you? You were on the run most of the child's life. How did you manage to escape, even?"

"Never mind that now, I've got to know if she really is my daughter. Is there any way to tell her to come back immediately?"

"You can try. But I'd rather you not. She's Granger's kid, mate. You never know what she's capable off. Your summoning charm may backfire if she doesn't want to oblige."

"She's that good?"

"She's aced Defense, mind."

"She did?"

"Yes, and she aced everything else. Like a true Granger."

At dinner, Draco's eyes darted from the Zabinis to the only Granger in the room.

"So, Heléna," He said. "What's your favourite class? Primrose here loves Potions."

"Defense Against the Dark Arts. We used to hold duels at Beauxbatons."

"And you would always win?"

"Undefeated."

Draco smiled, remembering how Hermione used to do show the same pride in her accomplishments.

"It's a shame, though. Hogwarts doesn't really care for duels." Hera added.

"They don't, do they?"

"McGonagall actually likes the idea, but the Council reckons it's too dangerous." Blaise chimed in.

Pansy laughed. "The Council and their cowardly schemes."

"They never change, do they?" Draco said.

"No." Answered Blaise.

"Say, Ms. Granger, how about _we_ duel?" Draco asks the young Granger.

"I don't think that's appropriate, Draco." Pansy interjected.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Zabini. I'll be alright." Hera coolly responded. Hera's anger still hasn't subsided and she was fighting her hair and skin's screams to transform to their original form. _If I could just hurt him_ , Hera thought to herself. _That should pay for the fifteen years he made Mum wait._

And so, after dinner, the company marched on towards the Zabinis spacious yard, where Hera chose to stand by a patch of grass opposite Draco.

"Wands." Blaise reminded the two. "Now, I don't want blood on my lands, so please don't use dangerous spells. This is only a demonstration of both of your skills."

Excited as she was, Prima hopped on her spot, yelling, "Spells in three! Two! One!"

A blinding red jet gushed out of Hera's wand, attacking her father by the shoulder, causing his arm to stiffen. Her quick reflexes proved useful once again, as she shot another hex, this time pointing to his feet and pinning him to place.

Draco noted that these were spells similar to the Immobiulus, but somehow she managed to target only specific parts that she wants to render immobile.

Reciting the countercurse, he picked his wand from his immobile hand and shot a hex at the child, missing her by inches, and then, as if he had angered her, Hera shot an angry purple jet, piercing the muscles in his stiffened arm and legs.

Draco roared in pain as Blaise and Pansy ran to his aid, already waving their wands in utter panic. Prima, on the other hand, stood terrified on her feet.

"What have you done, child?" Blaise yelled in frustration. He realized that the muscles could not be treated with the same healing charm used for general muscle lacerations. He could not believe a fifteen-year-old had done this.

"Heal this man immediately!" He demanded.

Surprised as he already was, he was even more surprised when Hera merely walked towards the manor without a single word.

When they looked back at Draco, he was already on his feet, marvelling at his body's restoration.

"Like a true Granger." He repeated Zabini's words. "Zabini, I need to see Hermione."


	3. Chapter 3

"Granger and Draco couldn't have… They didn't even talk to each other!" Pansy was looking rather shocked at the revelations dawning upon her. "No."

Draco chuckled as he stretched his arm to the side, checking to see if the muscles had fully healed.

Blaise turned to look whether the two girls were present in the room with them. When he was sure they weren't, he cleared his throat and began explaining to Pansy.

Draco crossed his leg over the other, lacing his fingers together and placing them on his lap.

"I was the one who introduced them to each other." Blaise stated matter-of-factly.

"Was Granger an Auror?"

"Yes, we used to work together."

"Pansy, don't stress. It's just that the Granger child might actually be _my_ child as well, since, you know, we were together before I fled to Siberia." Draco chimed in.

Pansy gasped in horror. "You and Granger? But you _hated_ her!"

Draco smiled sheepishly. "Not really."

"Blast it, Draco! And the child—What about the child? You left the child fatherless for years!"

"Well, it's only a speculation. We're not really sure yet." Blaise tried to calm his wife down, but to no avail. Pansy is normally calm and collected but since her pregnancy, her emotions have been all over the place.

"Not sure yet! I thought it was weird how she flew off the moment she saw you." Pansy pointed at Draco accusingly. "And have you seen that temper? She was blazing mad!"

Draco grinned.

"She got it from you, obviously." Blaise said, turning to Draco.

"See?"

"Alright, hey, calm down. We haven't proved anything yet. Blaise did some research and it was said that Granger had a fling with another boy when I disappeared. She was seen coming in and out of St. Mungo's with this man. Besides, the child doesn't look like me. So it's possible that I'm not her father."

Pansy's eyes grew big in disbelief. Ignoring her husband's plea to calm down, she turns to Draco. "Can you not see what I see? She is your daughter, Draco. I couldn't put my finger on it last night when she arrived here with Prim, but I saw something familiar with her. It's true she is the spitting image of her mother, but there are times when she looks like you, if only for a split second. And you know how Granger is always with either Potter or Weasley. The witness must have seen either of the two with her that day."

Hera tugged at the invisible Extendable Ear and rolled her eyes at her friend, who stood in horror beside her.

"Merlin's beard! So that's why you looked so familiar!"

"Ssh!"

Impatience ruling over her, Prima dragged Hera to her bedroom and laced all four walls with sound-concealing charms.

"Speak."

"What?"

"You were mad at Uncle Draco. Why? He didn't know about you, you gotta cut him some slack."

"Cut him some slack! He's not stupid! He knows having sex with a woman may or may not lead to the conception of a baby! How could he assume that Mum had a relationship with another man after him when she was so focused on raising me! I am mad at him for leaving Mum with not so much as a whisper. I am mad at him for affiliating himself with the Death Eaters in the first place. I am mad at Lucius Malfoy for everything he's done. This is all his fault! And Draco Malfoy was no better. There are ways to communicate in secret. He could've sent word to Mum of his whereabouts but he never did. He just fled, like my mother wasn't worth an explanation." Hera groaned in frustration, careful not to switch hair colors in front of Prima, instead, she chose to break windows, only to put the shards back together with an apologetic Reparo.

"Are you sure though?"

Meanwhile, in the living room, the adults congregated and Pansy made Draco tell everything he's ever done from the start.

"I did send her a letter." Draco said.

"And?" Pansy was eager to know everything there is to know about Draco's past that she didn't know.

"She never answered. I thought she moved away."

"She did move away, to France. She resigned from the Ministry all of a sudden. We were told she was offered a job there." Blaise said.

"And there never was any news about a baby or her pregnancy?" Pansy inquired further.

"No."

"Then how did you know about the man she's with in St. Mungo's?"

"Witness accounts. I had to extract it from deeply embedded memory charms." Said Blaise.

"What happened in Siberia?"

Pansy met Blaise for the first time in a long time after Blaise decided to return to London (from Siberia, by Draco's urging) and take up the teaching position at Hogwarts. She was with Neville then, but due to strange circumstances, they broke up. To cut the story short, she married Blaise.

"Blaise and I fought with the Death Eaters who followed us there. We managed to kill some of them, but their forces grew larger and we had to flee to other neighboring countries." Draco said.

"And?"

"Well, at that time, it was only me and Blaise, but Aurors from the Ministry found us and helped conceal us."

"Who are these Aurors?"

"Angelina Johnson, Parvati Patil and Dean Thomas."

"And not one told you Granger had a baby?"

"No, probably because even they didn't know, in the first place."

Pansy sighed. "But they probably told her friends about you being in Siberia, no?"

"Probably."

"Are the Death Eaters still after you?"

"Last I checked, the last members were rounded up by Potter's team in the countryside. Most of them are in Azkaban now, and I doubt they'll make a move with so little a number."

"But the child!"

"What about her?" Blaise asked, impatiently.

"Let's call her, and ask whether or not she is your daughter."

"I'm telling you—"

"We haven't proved anything yet."

"Let's call her, then." Draco said, as he got up and walked towards the stairs leading to the second floor, where Prima's bedroom is.

Three soft knocks on the door tell the girls that the elders have finally decided to talk to one of them.

"Prima, Hera, open the door, please."

Reluctant as she is, Prima opened the door, letting go of the spell she held inside the room. The bright lights revealed Hera vanishing her bags one by one.

"Why are you packing, darling?" Pansy asked.

Hera faced the woman as if she did a terrible mistake. "I'm sorry for being tactless, Mrs. Zabini. I'm going home to my Mum's. I won't burden you any further."

"Oh, no, child. I'm sure you were only carried away. Kids your age are often carried away with spells and dueling. It's not a big deal, really." Pansy laughed awkwardly.

"Oh no ma'am. It is for me. I have disrespected you and your house with my manners or the lack thereof. I apologize."

The three adults quietly processed the sudden turn of events.

Draco marveled at the speed to which Hera Granger made her luggage disappear, probably sent it to her Mum's, he thought.

"I'll see you at the start of term, Professor, Prima." With a small nod, he turned to Draco, "Mr. Malfoy."

Without as much as looking back, Hera rushed to the balcony and bolted away with her broom.

"Well that was quick." Blaise said.

"What just happened?" Pansy asks, not quite sure how to react.

"Yeah, I didn't really think asking the child will yield any result." Draco said.

Prima pretended not to know her friend's side of the story, but eyed her godfather searchingly until he bid them all goodbye.

The next day saw Draco Malfoy lurking in the alleyways close to the Ministry of Magic. He was hoping to see Hermione Granger and talk to her about the possibility of him being the father of her child.

As he waited, Hermione Granger came carrying a suitcase and a cup of what looked like Muggle coffee.

Draco marveled at her utter beauty, and suddenly he was filled with pride that Hera managed to inherit every feature she had, for she was beautiful, in all ways possible.

Then he saw it. Hermione had brown eyes, Hera had brown ones too, only it doesn't look as warm as her mother's. Hermione's hair was brown, Hera's was russet. He tried to think of anyone he knew who might have had russet hair, but in the end, he couldn't. Hermione was short, compared to Draco. Hera was almost as tall as he was.

Realizing that he wasn't quite prepared for the confrontation, he decided to leave Hermione Granger for the time being and search for her house instead.

It was only at dusk when he remembered the Black tradition of concealing houses, and knowing Hermione Granger, she must have adapted it from Potter's house in Grimmauld Place and added a few charms of her own for additional protection. He sighed in exhaustion.

He decided to grab a drink at the Leaky Cauldron instead and perhaps take a stroll around Diagon Alley, and then he'll see Hermione tomorrow.

At least, that was his plan, until he had his firewhiskey and walked down the path leading to Diagon Alley.

It was the same old Diagon Alley, the same shops, the same shopkeepers, the same colors. But here was a sight to behold.

Hermione was holding hands with her fifteen-year-old, laughing at what the younger witch said. Intrigued as he was, he tailed the two witches until they reached the exit in the Leaky Cauldron. Together they hailed a cab to their Muggletown destination, followed closely by Draco.

Alighting a bit far away from the two, Draco saw that the house wasn't indeed hidden with concealing charms, only that the street leading to this place may confuse the ignorant eye.

"Alohomora." He heard Hera say.

Quickly he darted past trees and slipped through the door after Hermione.

The house was quiet. Then Draco heard Hera scramble to her feet downstairs, pointing her wand at him.

"Stupefy!"

Hermione emerged from the kitchen holding a glass of water. "Darling, help me with the groceries, will you?"

"What?"

"What?"

"But I just—"

"Oh. Rennervate." Hermione pointed her wand towards the intruder. "I knew it was him."

"Mum?!"

"Hera darling, he's your father. Couldn't you be nicer? You've already torn his muscles apart."

"I know. But he—"

"Groceries. And make yourself comfortable, Draco." Hermione said coolly, returning to the kitchen with her glass of water.

Hera groaned. She couldn't quite process how her Mum is acting so calm when her father just barged in unannounced and uninvited. _Like it's something I should be used to by now!_ She thought, as she stuffed items in the cupboard.

"I'll help with the groceries." Draco volunteered only to be rejected.

Hera glared at Draco.

"Do you realize how weird this is for me?" Hera asked rather loudly.

"I'm sorry, Heléna." Draco said.

"I call her Hera." Hermione said, filling a kettle with water for tea.

"Hera." He echoed.

"Aren't you even mad at each other?" Hera once again demanded explanations.

"Of course I am. But look, your father didn't come here for me, he came here for you."

"Actually, I came for the both of you."

Hermione scoffed.

"You didn't even know she existed until yesterday." She said.

"You're right, I didn't know! And Zabini said you dated another man after I left. He said he was the one who accompanied you to St. Mungo's to have the baby checked."

"Of course you didn't, because I kept it secret, what with your Death Eater friends thrashing the whole England in search of you." Her tone was condescending. "Did you think I would risk my daughter's life and wait for you to return? Like a damsel, waiting for her prince to come? Ridiculous. And I did not _date another man_. It was Harry, Ginny and Ron who accompanied me to all my checkups. Tell Blaise to straighten his facts. He was never good with memory extraction to begin with."

"How did you know all that?"

"Your daughter eavesdropped on your conversation with Blaise and Pansy."

"Hermione, I—"

"I know what you did in Siberia, and I hope those fifteen years are enough for you to do what you have to do so that the Death Eaters won't be resurrected in full force. But now that you're here, it wouldn't hurt to play a part in your daughter's life, would it?"

"That's exactly what I wanted."

Amidst the intense discussion, Hera stood by the wall and glanced at her parents alternately until they moved to the living room..

Their conversation was the strangest Hera had ever seen. It darted from Siberia, to Death Eaters, to Aurors, to Hera, to Uncle Harry and Ron, to her school, to her and replayed on a loop.

Dinner time slowly crept upon the three of them, and Hera found herself preparing the food because her parents still hadn't finished with their bickering. It was fifteen years' worth of arguments, after all.

"Dinner!" She called out.

The two stopped talking immediately, to Hera's surprise, and joined her in the kitchen.

At the dinner table, Hermione kept glancing at Hera, who stubbornly kept her russet hair and brown eyes. She even made it extra bushy today.

"She takes after you." Draco said, amidst the clinking of spoons over plates.

Hermione smiled. "I'm sorry for her hexing you like that. It's her Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry. They told her stories from when we were young and she had the idea to make her own hexes, and you kind of gave her an excuse to test a couple of them out."

"It's fine. She healed me right after." Draco laughed.

"She did?"

"Yes, she did. Did you teach her that?"

"I taught her some healing charms, but if it's for her recently discovered hexes, I'm afraid only she can heal the victims."

"Were you a troublemaker at Beauxbatons?" Draco asked, eager to get to know his daughter more.

"No." Hera answered.

"What was your house?"

"Ombrelune."

"And what kind of people get into Ombrelune?"

"The cunning ones. They're kind of like Slytherin in a way."

"How about in Hogwarts? Where were you sorted? Gryffindor? Like your Mum?"

"Slytherin."

"Yes!" Draco yelled, ecstatic. "I beat you this time, Granger." He said.

Hermione laughed. "I'll give you that."

"Do you fly?"

"I do."

"What's your broom?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Well, because I played Quidditch myself back in Hogwarts."

"I know that story. Lucius Malfoy bought new brooms for everyone in the Slytherin team just so you could play Seeker."

Draco looked shocked at his daughter's knowledge of his Hogwarts days. "Your Mum's Gryffindor friends must have told you that."

"Yeah. Uncle Ron and Uncle Harry told me all about their encounters with you in their letters."

Before Hera learned to change her hair at the age of six, she often wondered why she looked different from her Mum. Her Mum had frizzy brown hair while hers was a blonde; her Mum's eyes were warm and brown, hers were grey and cold. This was the first time she ever asked the reason behind her physical attributes, and so Hermione patiently told her about her father. She didn't ask again, until she entered Beauxbatons and was overwhelmed by the sight of students being dropped off by their Mums and Dads. As soon as she got an owl, she started sending letters to Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, her Mum's best friends, to ask whether they knew about her father. They kindly obliged, of course, as she happens to be the goddaughter from far away whom they doted on. But since Harry mentioned the Half-Blood Prince and Sectumsempra, stories of her godfathers' encounter with her Dad diminished significantly.

Draco's face suddenly turned crimson.

"Then you must know how awful I was to your Mum?"

"You were horrible."

Draco smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry you had to learn about all that."

"I wanted to know who my father was, not just by name. I know about your father so hell bent on breaking you two apart." Hera pointed at her parents. "Mum told me the story. Seriously, what's his deal with Muggleborns?"

Draco couldn't answer. At this point, he wasn't quite sure if he was speaking to a fifteen-year-old or someone older. "I don't know, either."

"But I also know that you loved Mum. You made her happy. Back in Paris, I look for your pictures in her drawer whenever she leaves for work. I also read your letters, which were all dated before I was born."

"I'm sorry I hadn't learned about you sooner."

"I don't know about the fight you undertook in Siberia but I know you had time to figure something out, to contact Mum after all these years. I mean, you do send Prima gifts every so often. Why couldn't you send Mum a letter?"

Draco looked at Hermione, then back at Hera.

"She'll come around." Hermione told Draco once the tension broke and he's now bidding them goodbye. "Be patient."

The next day, upon waking up, Hera found her room renovated. Somehow, her room suddenly got larger, even more spacious than Prima's. Her drapes are now in green and silver- Slytherin colors. Her walls are now covered in matching wallpaper. She now had a reading nook at the far end of the bedroom, a new set of shelves and a new stack of books. Her room was okay before, and she was never the fussy one with colors and large spaces but she scanned her whole new world from the foot of her bed and decided, "It's not bad."

"Hera, breakfast!"

"Coming, Mu-" Hera was so used to her Mum calling her for breakfast, but this time is different. She ran down the stairs and caught a whiff of pancakes and bacon and in the middle of the kitchen stood a tall blonde man wearing an apron and grinning at her.

"You."

"Good morning, sunshine!"

" _Sunshine?_ "

"Do you like your new room?"

"Yeah, it wasn't that bad."

Hermione snorted. "I told you she doesn't really care for posh living."

"Oh." Draco said, looking defeated.

Seeing her father's defeated expression, Hera said, "I thought you'd gone home last night. Why are you back so early?"

"He slept on the couch." Her Mum said, flipping through a page of Quibbler.

"I live here now." Draco said.

"You have got to be kidding me."

"At least till I find a land where I can build a manor for us."

"A _manor_ , for _us_?"

"Why do you look so surprised?" Draco asks, conjuring freshly cooked bacon, eggs and pancake on his daughter's plate.

"Hang on, is there something I've missed?"

As if on cue, Draco cleared his throat and began inching towards Hermione, putting an arm around her waist. "Your Mum and I never really broke up, you see."

Hera's face scrunched both in disbelief and disgust at the gesture. "Mum! Aren't you mad at him for leaving you just like that?"

"I was." Hermione said, matter-of-factly.

"And?!"

"He said he'll try his best to win you over. I had to concede. This isn't just about me anymore, it's about you. I don't want you living life not knowing your father."

"What do you say, love?" Draco asks. "Give your father a chance, maybe? Please?"

Hera glanced at the hand resting on her Mum's hip and grimaced. "Get a room."

With the motion of her hand, her breakfast plate rose up and followed her to her new bedroom.

When Hera was out of sight, Draco quickly shot Hermione questions like "Wordless spells! Self-invented hexes! At fifteen?"

"I know! She's amazing!"

"How did she learn all that?"

"She learned it by herself. I may have compiled my Hogwarts notes in one stack and that's where she spent her time the most while I'm gone for work, I guess."

"Can I see photos of her as an infant?"

Grinning, Hermione summoned a photo album from her room. The album's cover was decorated with a single photo, that of Hera and her nearly bald head and big, cold eyes. Draco gasped. "She has my eyes!"

"And everything else." Hermione laughed.

"Except for the brains. She's definitely got yours."

Intrigued, he leafed through the whole album until she reached the page where Hera was six years old. He sat, gaping, amazed by his daughter's transformation. He noticed that from six years old, there was never a photo that followed showing Hera with her blonde hair and grey eyes.

"Can I take some of these? I'd like to show my Mother."

With a wave of her hand, another album came to the kitchen, bumping against Draco's arm.

"I made you a copy, just in case."

Draco traced the gold letters engraved on the leather cover. Smiling, he read his daughter's name, "Heléna… Alexandria Jean Granger." With tears in his eyes, he reached for Hermione and embraced her. "Did you have a hard time? I'm sorry. I really am."

"Oh, it wasn't that bad." Hermione stroked his back, "I had help, so it's alright."

"May I?" Malfoy asks, referring to the name engraved on the leather binding.

"If you change that, you'll have to take full responsibility."

"I know."

With a tap of his finger, the gold letters rearranged themselves so they give room to more.

"Heléna Alexandria Jean Granger-Malfoy".


	4. Chapter 4

Shortly after deciding to change Hera's surname from Granger to Malfoy, Hermione and Draco decided to make the change official with the Ministry's Registration Commission.

"Sorry, I thought you said you changed my name from Granger to Malfoy."

"We did." Draco stated, straightforwardly.

"Did Mum fully agree to this? Because I only trust her judgment."

"Of course. " Hermione answered.

Hera rolled her eyes stomped towards her bedroom. "Whatever."

Hermione took this to be a sign of consent from Hera. She may be still mad at her father for abandoning her, but she has told Hera stories of their courtship. She thought she might have remembered it as she consented almost immediately.

Hera might have grown up without a father, but her mother made sure she never missed out by telling her stories of how she met her father, and how the latter courted her till he won her heart.

It was a difficult task.

Hera stood by her reading corner, peering through the wide window overlooking the street where her parents now stood, talking and laughing. Her mother was checking if she had everything she needed in her bag, and then they hailed a cab that'll bring them to nearest disapparition point to the Ministry.

Hera remembered picturing her Dad as a dashing young man, who, when placed beside her Mum, looked utterly cold in contrast to her warm aura.

She remembers painting pictures in her mind as her Mum told her stories of how her Dad gave her heaps and stacks of ancient tomes and runes as a birthday present. He collected them from all over the world during his travels. Her Mum told her about how he took a portion of his inheritance to build himself a Potions shop against his father's will. He and her Mum would exchange letters, sometimes attached with photos of either one of them. Her Mum might have been upset with him for leaving her without warning, but she always spoke of him fondly. Her Mum spoke not of the boy who haunted her Hogwarts years for being a Muggleborn (although she did tell her stories about that mean boy), but of the man who gave her stacks of books instead of flowers, who cooked her meals because she was too busy with work to even remember to cook for herself, and the only one who can prove to be her equal in almost everything.

She stole one of her Dad's photos once, which she now keeps safely stashed inside her trunk. She used to show it to her friends back in Beauxbatons. They wouldn't believe he was indeed her father unless she shows them her blonde hair and icy grey eyes.

Hera remembers that one time her Mum cried while telling her the story of how he wanted their firstborn to be a girl. She was so happy to learn that the baby she carried inside her was indeed a girl, but she doesn't have the kid's father to share that joy with.

"He doesn't know about you now," her Mum used to say. "But when he does, I'm sure he'll fall in love with you like I did."

Hera smiled at the memory.

Meanwhile, Draco and Hermione had entered the Ministry and are headed toward the Registration Commission.

"Merlin, is that you, Malfoy?" Dean Thomas emerged from one of the elevators and ran up to the two.

"Thomas! Good to see you."

"I didn't know you were back from Siberia, mate."

"I received the go signal from the Minister when Potter had sent the Death Eaters to Azkaban. Hey thanks, mate. I haven't thanked you enough for your help. Do tell the others I send my thanks."

Dean made a show of eyeing Draco suspiciously before turning to Hermione and back to him, answering, "No problem. What's your business here, by the way? Why are you together?"

"We're here to change Hera's surname. His idea." Hermione said, nonchalantly.

"Oh! How is dear Hera? I haven't had the chance to see her during the ball." Dean said.

"Hang on, he knows about our daughter?" Draco looked aghast at the revelation.

Hermione smiled. "Dean knew her as a baby."

"Mind you, mate. It wasn't easy keeping her a secret from you when we were in Siberia. We had direct orders from Wood not to tell you anything for fear that the child's life might be put into peril."

Draco smiled thoughtfully, holding out a hand towards Dean. "Thanks again, mate."

After filling out the required paperwork for transaction, Hermione and Draco were sent to the office of the Head of Registration Commission, where they were supposed to finalize the changes they wished to make. The Head of the Registration Commission did not seem to mind that the couple in front of him is only now changing their child's record from 15 years ago. In fact, he didn't even lift his bald head when they arrived, only motioned for either of them to put the papers on top of his desk. "Hmm, so you want to change the child's name to Malfoy, am I correct?"

"Yes."

"How is this child related to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy?" The old man asked absently.

"She's their granddaughter."

As if being awakened from his slumber, the old man raised his eyes so they saw the two clearly. He was shocked to see Draco Malfoy, the son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy (who, despite their involvement with the Death Eaters and Lord Voldermort, were still respected in the wizarding community), standing before him, and with Hermione Granger, one of the rumored candidates for the position of Minister of Magic, the brightest witch of her generation.

"My, what an uncanny pair, you are." He said, as he signed the stack of papers in front of him.

That afternoon, Hermione and Draco went home to find Hera dangling her feet by the railings of the balcony outside her room, reading a book, which is levitating inches away from her eyes.

"Come on down, Hera. Your Dad brought home some snacks."

"Be right there!"

The young witch emerged into the kitchen with the book still levitating in front of her.

"What are you reading?" Draco asks.

"Ancient Runes."

"But you're still in your fourth year. Shouldn't you be reading the required textbooks this year?"

"I've read them for like a hundred times already." Hera replied, snatching the book and laying it gently on the kitchen table.

As her eyes met her father's, she changed her hair color to match his and also her eye color, so it's the similar pair of cold grey circles. What was once brown and bushy became wavy and blonde.

Draco was enthralled by this transformation.

Hermione saw this and quietly watched as Draco took it all in. Glancing at Hera, she said, "Freckles, honey."

The young witch made it so her face is now traced with less freckles than there usually is. Not that she looked better without them or anything; it's just that she only inherited a small number of freckles and her Mum wanted it to show. With her features now changed to the original, Draco saw that Hera was the perfect mixture of him and Hermione.

Today was the longest Hera had maintained her natural features. Hermione was expecting it to go away by the next day, but she was wrong. The next day came and the next, and the next, but Hera did not change her features even once.

"So, are you going to go back to school looking like this or is this like a phase?" Hermione asked one time.

"I don't know, what do you think?"

"I think you look pretty either way."

"No one at school knows what I really look like. I could pretend to be another transfer student."

"Get your Mum's robes, and pretend to be Gryffindor for a day." Draco suggested.

"Don't." Hermione said.

"Oh but Mum, that could be fun!"

"No. Professor McGonagall won't go easy on anyone who thinks it's funny to switch houses for fun."

After chastising both Hera and Draco, Hermione smiled to herself. _Mischief. Of course_.

"You know, she still hasn't called me Dad." Draco said one early morning, as he served Hermione her cup of tea.

"She will, eventually."

"I wish it happens sooner." Draco sighed.

Hermione laughed. "You know, her duels in Beauxbatons were kept secret from me for the longest time."

"How did you learn about it?"

"She's nearly lost a kid his arm. Another one of her spells. Apparently, she had just concocted it in a panic and she didn't know how to undo it. The professors didn't know what to do either so they called the Headmistress. Madame Maxime was livid."

"So she's a troublemaker after all."

"Very much so."

Draco laughed. "I think we'll get along pretty well."

"You just have to wait."

Hermione knew it was only a matter of time before Draco suggests they travel to the Malfoy manor so he can introduce his daughter to his parents. She hated the idea, but went with it anyway for Hera's sake. Only,

"I'm not coming with you." Hermione said.

"What?" Hera looked disappointed.

"But Hera won't be at ease without you." Draco said.

"She'll be fine." She turned to her daughter. "You'll be fine. There's not much to it. You'll be meeting your father's parents is all."

Hera was about to retort but her father rested a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she remembered. Bellatrix Lestrange tortured her Mum in the Malfoy manor.

"Alright."

"Take care of her now." Hermione told Draco.

And so father and daughter left for the Malfoy manor through the Floo Network, arriving in the vast fireplace facing the grand living room.

"This is where I grew up, Hera."

"This is where your Aunt Bellatrix tortured Mum."

"That, too."

Hera glanced at the chandelier hovering above them and noticed the stairs leading to the equally grand second floor.

"Where's your bedroom?"

"Up there." Draco pointed at the centermost door at the second floor. "But I haven't been there in a long time."

Draco made to sit at the couch by the fireplace, as Hera walked around inspecting the books lined up in the bookshelves behind the stairs.

"These are your old textbooks." She observed.

"That's right."

"They're all battered. I guess you must have read them thoroughly. Mum said your marks rivaled hers."

"That is true." Draco grinned.

"Strange. I half-expected to see books on Dark Magic in the Malfoy manor. I can't see any."

Draco laughed. Just then, they heard footsteps emerging from the rooms upstairs.

Hera heard a soft gasp.

"Draco!" Narcissa exclaimed. "Lucius, Draco's come home!"

"Hello, Mum." Draco kissed his mother on the cheek.

"I'm glad you've come back. Oh, how worried we were!" She said, grasping her son by the arms. She noticed Hera walking towards them. "And who is this?"

Hera did not speak, instead she straightened her back and looked at the old witch in the eye. The intensity of her stare amazed Narcissa, and almost immediately she understood.

Lucius, on the other hand, took his time descending the stairs, observing what had just taken place.

"Draco, who is this little girl?"

Hera sneered at the mention of the word "little".

"Mother, Father, I'd like you to meet your granddaughter."

The elders stared at Hera as if they'd seen a ghost.

"Hello, Grandmother, Grandfather." Hera smiled sweetly, stepping forward so her arm grazed her father's robes.

"A granddaughter?" Lucius repeated. "And all grown up?" He eyed his son knowingly. "And what might your name be, child?"

"Heléna Granger."

"Malfoy." Corrected Draco.

"A Granger Spawn?" Lucius eyed Hera as if he'd seen an abomination.

"Beautiful. Just beautiful." Narcissa reached out for Hera's hand and touched it lovingly. "She takes after you, Draco."

"She does. A little bit."

Lucius stood a few feet away from everyone, not speaking.

"Would you care for some tea, dear?" Narcissa asks Hera.

"That would be lovely."

"How come we haven't heard of you before?"

Draco then set out to recount the story as to why he didn't know about Hera until recently.

"My, your wife must be so lucky to have such trustworthy people around. Not many can stick for their friends these days."

Hera cleared her throat at the mention of the word "wife". "They're not married."

"They're not married, _Grandmother_. You'll do well to learn to give your father's mother the respect she's due, young one." Narcissa waved her finger in the air, as if to lecture her granddaughter. "As for you, Draco. I don't remember raising a child who would one day produce his own child out of wedlock! Your great-grandmother would have never approved."

"My great-grandmother would have yelled her head off if she learned I were to marry a Muggleborn. I'm planning on asking her, but the timing is not right." Draco answered.

"Your daughter has practically grown up. What are you still waiting for?"

Draco could not answer.

Seeing as her son did not have anything to say, Narcissa turned to Hera. "How old are you, dear?"

"Fifteen… Grandma."

"Fifteen! And you're almost as tall as your father. I've met your mother on several uneventful occasions, and I'm not sure if she even likes me because you know, Bella nearly killed her. You do know your Grandma Bella? Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"Yes. Grandma Molly beat her in their duel during the War. That's why she's not around anymore."

Draco laughed nervously. He liked her daughter's blunt nature but he's not quite sure his mother would like it as well.

"You do know her. Very well, then."

"I see your mother hasn't taught you decorum, youngling." Lucius said, finally emerging from his dark hole.

"Father."

"It's alright, dear." Narcissa intervened. "I understand where her hostility is coming from. You can't blame her."

Draco cleared his throat, seeing the opportunity. "Mum, Dad, we'll get going now. We have to pick up Hera's things from Diagon Alley. We'll see you soon."

"I hope next time I see you Draco, you'll be getting married to that child's mother."

"Hermione, Mum. Her name's Hermione." Draco rummaged through his bag and got out a leather-bound book, which Hera recognized as her photo album. The name engraved on the spine was altered as well, she observed. What was once Granger now read "Granger-Malfoy".

"Just in case you wanted to see what she was like as a baby."

Narcissa accepted the book and tucked it under her arm. "How thoughtful of you."

"Are we really going to Diagon Alley?"

"Well, it was just so I could get you away from there, but do you want to?"

"I guess I need a new cauldron."

"How about a new broom?"

"Um… I have a Lightning Bolt."

"A Lightning Bolt! Your Mum let you have a Lightning Bolt?"

"Why do you sound so surprised?"

Draco laughed. Once again, Hera pictured nymphs gliding over a meadow, singing, dancing and being merry.

"Nothing. It's just that your Mum isn't fond of flying is all. She thinks it's dangerous. But now, look at you! That's a nice broom you've got."

"Actually, it wasn't in the photo album, but Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry sent me a broom for my first birthday and Mum didn't have a photo of me on it because she was so caught up in making sure I don't fall off and die, although it didn't rise higher than three feet. She said she couldn't take me off it for a long time."

Her father laughed even louder. "She must have had a hard time."

"I guess you could say that. But Aunt Ginny already gave her tips. It has become tradition, you see. Albus had his first broom when he was one, so did Daisy, and me."

"Albus? Potter's kid?"

"Yes."

"And Daisy?"

"Uncle Ron's daughter."

"Are they both on their houses' Quidditch team?"

"Just Daisy. Albus doesn't really like Quidditch. But I reckon he's a good flyer, from what Aunt Ginny told Mum in her letters."

Just like that, Hera bonded with her father throughout the day. Together, they bought her cauldron, a new set of quills and inkbottles, and sweets.

"We should play Quidditch sometime, Dad."

Slightly taken aback by his daughter finally calling her "Dad", it took a few seconds before Draco gathered his thoughts and answered. "Sure."


End file.
